Sanity is Overrated
by TwistedFire
Summary: In which the laws of physics are broken and the bohemians are introduced to a whole new kind of hell: the world of fanfiction.
1. Sanity Goes Out the Window

**A/N: **Well, I took a nice long break from fanfiction for a while, but now I'm back. Who missed me?

Anyway, I'm not really sure what this is. This may have come from reading countless parodies of fanfiction, _or_ it could have been caused by a boredom-induced hallucination. All I know is that this popped into my head during a Study Hall one day, and the plot bunnies have refused to let it be.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own RENT, blah, blah, blah, and Sammy is based on a real person in a roundabout way, so I don't own her either.

(Sammy is ILikeScarvesAndGuitars, by the way.)

Well, this is your last chance to turn back before I have completely mangled your sanity.

Oh, you're going to risk it then? Well, don't say I didn't warn you...

* * *

"G'morning, Mimi," Mark muttered as he shuffled past Mimi on the couch. Rubbing his sleep-clouded eyes, he slumped onto a chair at the table. "Morning, Roger," he mumbled as he poured coffee into his cup. Putting his glasses on, he blinked a few times before taking a sip of the hot liquid. "Morning, random-chick-who-I-don't-know."

A second passed as Mark took another sip of his coffee before spitting it out all over the table. "What the hell?!"

Mark knocked over his chair as he stood in alarm. Screaming girlishly, he backed away from the girl sitting in the corner. Mimi jumped up from the couch to hide behind Roger, who had knocked over his coffee cup and was now wielding a knife.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you in our house?!"

The girl sitting in the corner sipped from her cup calmly. "Don't worry, Roger. I'm not going to hurt you or anything."

Roger surveyed the calm girl. She sat Indian-style on the chair. A paper coffee cup was placed on the floor in front of her, and a blue notebook was nestled in her lap. Thick, black glasses rested heavily on her nose. Honey-blonde hair hung in loose strands, tucked behind her ears. He could see a pen sticking out of her closed hand.

He lowered the knife cautiously. "How do you know my name?"

Her eyes widened and she smirked.

"Oh my god!" Mark screamed. "She's one of those—those fangirls!" Mark grabbed Roger's shoulders and shook them. "I don't want to be mauled to death, Roger! Save me!"

Before Roger could react (and honestly, how could you blame him?), the girl in the corner crossed the room quickly, smacking the back of Mark's head.

"Ow! Fuck!"

"Would a fangirl do that?"

Mark paused. "If you aren't a fangirl, what are you?"

The girl grinned and stuck out her hand. "M'name's Becky, and I'm a fanfiction author."

Thunder rumbled in the background.

Mark and Roger made no effort to shake Becky's hand. Mimi groaned, "Boys," and shook the girl's hand.

"Well, now that that's settled; let's get this party started! Ohh, Sammyyy!" she called. Suddenly, another girl appeared, holding a toothbrush in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in another. She appeared to be wearing pajamas.

"…huh?" The toothbrush and tube of toothpaste fell to the ground. "What's going on?" Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Roger. "Oh my… is this a dream?"

Becky shook her head. "Nope."

Sammy blinked in awe. "Then… that's…" she drifted off.

"Roger Davis," Becky finished for her.

Sammy's eyes glazed over and a goofy smile spread across her face.

"Um, is she okay?" Mark circled her hesitantly. She didn't move.

"Sammy? Saaammmyyyy?" Becky snapped her fingers. Sammy still didn't move.

Mimi whispered, "Did she have a stroke?" Sammy began to drool.

"Eww." Becky shook her. Some drool dripped onto the floor. "I think her brain melted…"

Mark waved his hands in front of her face. She didn't take her eyes off of Roger.

"Hey, Roger? Do you know any Jovi songs?"

Roger blinked. "Why?"

Becky shook her head. "Just play one."

Hesitantly, Roger grabbed his guitar and began to play.

"_I been knocked down so many times,_

_Counted out 6, 7, 8, 9,_

_Written off like some bad deal,_

_If you're breathing you know how it feels,_

_Call it karma, call it luck_

_Me, I just don't give a—"_

Suddenly, Sammy snapped back to reality and began to sing.

"_Bounce, bounce, nothing's gonna keep me down,_

_Bounce, bounce, stand up, shout it out,_

_Bounce, bounce, I play hard, I play to win,_

_Count me out, count me in_

_I'll be bouncing back again!"_

"Huh. Well, that worked."

Sammy grinned and bounded towards Roger, but before she was able to reach him, Mimi stepped in her way. Sam stepped to the left (to the left, to the left!). Mimi intercepted her. A low rumbling filled the room.

"Did she just… growl?"

Mark, Roger, and Becky stared at the two girls. Indeed, the rumbling noise was coming from the curly-haired Sammy. Her upper lip was raised, baring her teeth, her eyes were narrowed into slits, and she was growling like a dog guarding its dinner.

"Uh-oh. This can't be good."

**Dun dun dunn…**

**To be continued…**

* * *

Well, what do you think so far? Honestly, I have no idea where I'm going with this. I could use some help. Should I continue, or should I just scrap the whole thing? If I do continue, where should I take it from here?

Reviews and feedback, please and thank you.

-Twisted


	2. From the Basics

**A/N:** Alright, I'm still not really sure where I'm going with this, but I suppose I'll have to figure that out soon enough.

I'm likin' Rapp Fan's idea though, so maybe I should start heading in that direction soon. I dunno. It all depends on whether Sammy's ok with it.

"And, reading reviews, some girl wants you to sedate me?

Ouch. Now this is how it feels when you're an actor and people hate your character and want to kill it off.

The pain."

Oh well. I'll figure something out. If anybody's got some ideas they'd like to share, please do so.

Mmkay. Moving on.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Nope. Sorry.

* * *

"**Previously on 'Sanity is Overrated'—"**

"What the hell?! Who the fuck is that?!"

"Shut up, Mark! That's the announcer dude, and I'm _paying_ him, so you'd better let him do his job!"

"—**ahem. Previously on 'Sanity is Overrated': Two lovely ladies in a battle for one man. Will this be the end of Mimi, or shall true love prevail?"**

"…right."

The two girls circled each other cautiously, taking the other in, eyeing each other up, until, with a giant battle cry, they—

"Ohh, Sammyyyy! Look what I've got!" A sing-song voice interrupted. Sammy glanced at Becky and gasped.

"A Richie Sambora doll!" She squealed, and promptly snatched the doll away to go play in the corner.

Mimi relaxed and the other bohemians sighed in relief. They had flirted with disaster and had escaped unscathed.

Disaster, who was overjoyed at being flirted with, skipped away happily to go brag to Anarchy, Chaos, and Destruction.

The bohemians watched it go.

"Well, now what do I do? I've written myself into a corner." Becky grunted and plopped down onto the couch.

"Well," Sammy called from her place of childhood fun, "Why not introduce the Renties to fanfiction? Y'know, start from the basics."

Becky jumped up at the idea. "Sammy, you're a genius!"

"Well, duh."

"Says the teenage girl playing with a doll…" murmured Mark. Roger sniggered.

"Hey, pay attention!"

Suddenly, Mimi, Mark, and Roger were all sitting at desks. A notebook was in front of each of them. Becky stood in front of a chalkboard that had magically appeared.

"Now, first and foremost; fanfiction is a broadly defined term for fiction about characters or settings written by admirers of the original work, rather than by the original creators."

The bohemians stared with blank expressions. There was a short silence, interrupted by the ringing of the phone and the infamous 'SPEAAAAK!'

"Hey Roger, Mark, it's Maureen. Throw down the keys. I'm coming up. Oh, Joanne is here too."

Becky squealed. "Oh, this is perfect!"

Mark got up to throw the keys down.

"Might as well get Collins here too, otherwise you'll have to explain everything over again," Sammy called from the corner.

"Right."

Collins appeared with a little 'popping' noise. "…whoa. I am never drinking again."

"Honey, we're hooooommmmeeee!" Maureen called from the doorway. She stopped short, seeing the two strange girls. Joanne nearly ran right into her. "What's going on?"

Becky addressed her. "I'm Becky, and that girl in the corner," she pointed at Sammy. Sammy 'cooed' and made the Sambora doll wave one of his hands. "…Right. That girl with the doll is Sammy. Pull up a chair, folks. This is Fanfiction 101."

Collins plopped onto the sofa and Maureen crawled into a chair. Joanne hesitated because the author needed to draw some attention to her character.

"Ok, now that you're all here, I have one more thing I need to do," Becky announced, drawing attention away from Joanne.

A loud 'crack' filled the room and there was a bright flash of light. The bohemians shielded their eyes. When the light faded, the bohos cautiously looked up. Before them stood…

"Angel?" Collins questioned. She smiled softly. "But… how? You're… you're dead."

"Uhm, hi." Becky drew attention away from Angel. Wow. What an attention whore. "That would be me. I brought her back."

The moment of pleasant shock was broken when Collins, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, and Mark all leapt towards Angel and glomped her simultaneously. Roger lingered in his chair, not wanting to be crushed to death by the mass of bodies.

"Yo!" Sammy called. Everyone glanced at her in a surprised fashion, because this author thinks the phrase 'in a surprised fashion' is cool.

Anyway.

"Sit down and listen!"

Obediently, the reunited bohos sat. Becky grinned thankfully at Sammy. "Now, I'm going to teach you the basics of fanfiction. When I'm done, you'll know how to treat OOCness, know where Mary Sues are spawned from, and you'll even know how to survive a fangirl attack."

"But I thought fangirls were only a myth!" Maureen exclaimed.

"No talking!"

"…okay."

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

"Really?"

"No, not really. Now, Sammy, where do we start?"

Sammy was cradling the Sambora doll in her arms and singing a lullaby.

"Sammy, pay attention!"

Sammy sighed. "Basics, remember? Start with something small and work your way up. Something like… oh, I don't know. Something like… plotbunnies."

The laugh that escaped Becky's throat chilled the bohemians. Icicles began to grow on their eyelashes.

"Damn, it's cold in here," Becky exclaimed. She scribbled in her notebook and a crackling fireplace appeared in the far wall. The icicles melted.

"That's better. Now, where were we? Oh yes, plotbunnies…"

**TBC**

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**

I've got nothing important to say.

Oh, other than that you need to review because it's nice.

Yes. But that's it.

-Twisted


	3. The Good, the Bad, and the Rabid

**A/N:** Ok, so I know that this chapter is a little slow, but I promise it gets moving next chapter. Also, I've decided that I'll probably be doing this in parts, so it's probably gonna be pretty long. I'm working on the next chapter, which should be the end of Part 1, so I'll probably upload that in a week-ish. I have no clue what I'm going to do for any chapters after that, though.

Yeah.

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own my mind anymore. I sold that along with my soul.

* * *

"Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by the end of the chapter—"

"Huh? Chapter? What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Sammy threw her doll up into the air and caught it.

"Ahem. Plotbunnies are basically how authors come up with ideas for a story. You see, a plotbunny will just be hopping its way along," and Becky pantomimed a hopping bunny, "and it'll see an author. Since the bunnies are so stealthy, we usually don't know they're there until they bite us. Any questions so far?"

Maureen raised her hand. Becky ignored her.

"Good. Now, there are three main types of plotbunnies: Good Plotbunnies, Bad Plotbunnies, and Rabid Plotbunnies. Who knows what each type means?"

Maureen raised her hand again. Once again, Becky ignored her.

"How about… Joanne?"

Joanne looked around in shock. "Um… I'm guessing that Good Plotbunnies are good story ideas and Bad Plotbunnies are bad story ideas, but I'm not sure what Rabid Plotbunnies are."

"You get a B for effort," Sammy flatlined. Her heart promptly stopped beating and she fell over, nearly dead.

"Damn it, that's not what I meant!" Becky scratched out the previous line in her notebook. Sammy regained her heart's fantastical blood-pumping abilities. Becky tried again.

"You get a B for effort," Sammy injected. A giant needle appeared and embedded itself in Sammy's arm.

"Fuck this line!" Becky screamed. She scribbled out said fucked line in her notebook. "I give up."

The needle disappeared and Sammy continued admiring her Sambora doll as if nothing had happened.

"Anyway, you've got the main idea of it, Joanne. You see," A flip chart magically appeared. There was a diagram of three fuzzy pink rabbits on it. "A Good Plotbunny," Becky pointed to the first rabbit, "is a plotbunny that has not only a good plot, but also good grammar and punctuation. A Good Plotbunny story usually flows smoothy and is almost always beta-read."

At this, Sammy let out a 'woohoo!' as she tossed the doll into the air again.

"Moving on. A Bad Plotbunny," Becky pointed to the second rabbit, "has a bad plot. There might be a couple plot holes or choppy transitions. The author usually doesn't have a beta, so there are often grammar and punctuation mistakes."

Becky pointed at the third rabbit. "A Rabid Plotbunny is like a Bad Plotbunny, only ten times worse. The whole story is genuinely horrible. The characters are all out of character, canon couples are out the window, and the author is more focused on getting reviews than writing quality entertainment. The entire story is riddled with grammatical errors. The author often uses 'text talk' instead of proper English and never re-reads to check for said mistakes. While constructive criticism and a beta can usually fix Bad Plotbunny fics, neither of these will have any effect on a Rabid Plotbunny fic. It's just that bad."

The room fell silent except for the sounds Sammy was making as she played with her doll.

"So," Becky broke the awkwardness, "I've decided that the best way to teach you is by example." A cage appeared. "Inside this cage," Becky tapped it. The creature inside of it growled and shook the cage. Becky backed away slightly. "Er… Inside of this cage is a Rabid Songfic Bunny. I caught it this morning as it was nibbling on my computer wires. I—why aren't you writing this down?"

Mimi, Mark, and Roger quickly began to scribble in their notebooks. Maureen raised her hand. "What about the rest of us? We don't have anything to write with."

Notebooks and pencils rained from the ceiling.

"Er… thanks."

The rest of the bohos began to take down notes.

"Now, I'm going to show you what happens when an author of fanfiction gets bitten by a Rabid Plotbunny. I've given Sammy a laptop to use." A laptop appeared in her corner. Sammy squealed and abandoned her doll in order to revel in the glory of MySpace.

"Sammy will use the laptop to write her fic once I let the bunny go."

Maureen raised her hand. Again. Sheesh.

"Yes, Maureen?"

"What's a laptop?"

Becky blinked. "Um… don't worry about that. That hasn't been invented in your universe yet."

"…oh. Ok?"

"Anyway, you guys are going to see the effects that a Rabid Songfic Bunny can have."

Becky walked over to the table, cleared it off, and flipped it onto its side. "We're going to hide behind this as a safety precaution." The bohemians all scrambled behind the table. Well, all except for Angel.

"Angel, come on! Get behind the table!"

"Actually, she really doesn't need to. I'm not going to let anything happen to her, and besides, someone needs to let the bunny out of its cage." Becky strode behind the table confidently. The bohos shrugged.

Angel picked up the cage and moved it closer to where Sammy sat. She positioned the cage door to face the unsuspecting girl. Carefully, she lifted the latch. The cage door screeched open. Angel stepped backwards.

At first, nothing happened. There was no movement inside the cage. Sammy continued to type on the laptop and the bohos watched from behind the table.

Slowly, a fuzzy pink head popped out. It sniffed the air cautiously. Its yellow eyes took in its surroundings and its nose twitched. Yellow teeth flashed momentarily beneath the tufts of pink fur.

The bunny moved forward, its ears twitching and rotating to catch any sounds. The bohemians held their breaths in anticipation. Sammy didn't seem to notice that the room had gone completely silent.

Slowly, the bunny turned its scraggly pink head towards Sammy. Shivering with delight, the bunny inched toward the unsuspecting girl. It moved stealthily on its short rabbit legs.

In the blink of an eye, the rabid creature pounced on Sammy. It squealed in victory as it sank its sharp rabbit teeth into her shoulder.

There was nothing Sammy could have done. Before she knew what had hit her, she began to feel the effects of the plotbunny's bite. Her eyes glazed over slightly and her whole body went slack.

The bohemians gaped at the scene taking place in front of them. Little did they know that this was only the beginning.

**TBC**

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Cliffhangers are my friend.

-Twisted


	4. Disaster in a Box and End of Part 1

**A/N:** I'm posting a little early. Oh well. I don't know what to do after this, so I might not update in a while. I'll try, but I doubt if I will.

If you know these songs, you'll realize that I skipped a few lyrics to make the song fit. Oh, and ah... this chapter is definitely pushing the T rating. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

Sammy, thanks for being such a good sport. I promise I'll make it up to you. Maybe.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Rent, don't own the songs. Y'know, just in case you were under the impression that I did own Rent and all...

* * *

"What's going to happen to her?" Collins whispered.

"You'll see…" Becky replied, reminding this author irresistibly of Benny, who she randomly felt like mentioning seeing as she has conveniently left him out of this fic.

The bohemians watched Sammy and the bunny curiously. Nothing happened. The bohos shifted anxiously, beginning to mutter amongst themselves.

Sammy shuddered violently and the bohos fell silent. Slowly she sat up, moving jerkily, as if she was a marionette and her strings were becoming tangled.

A short moment passed before a lopsided grin appeared on the girl's face. Had the bohos known any better, they would have run from the room screaming at the top of their lungs. However, they didn't know any better, so they were doomed to watch their fates be typed out by a girl infected with rabid plotlines. Well, all except for Angel, because she's magical and has this author's blessing.

But yeah, back to the drama.

Where were we? Oh, yes. Lopsided grin. Doom. Gotcha.

The bohos, being distracted by the authoress's minuscule amounts of A.D.D., were startled when Sammy shrieked loudly. As they turned their heads to search for the cause of said shriek, Sammy began to type. Viciously.

If the bohos weren't so fascinated by the whole situation, they would be feeling seriously sorry for that poor laptop.

Considering that they don't know what a laptop is and all.

As Sammy typed furiously (and the plotbunny shivered in delight), the bohemians began to feel a bit… strange. The strange feeling floated amongst them, going from person to person, until it stopped and chose its victim.

This strange feeling was more than just a feeling; it was an idea, and a terrible one at that. The victim it chose, the one who was picked to live out a temporary nightmare created by a semi-insane author was… Mark.

Oh, this is gonna be good.

"Oh, Roger!" Mark suddenly cried, "I don't know how to say this, but… I think I've fallen in love with you!" Mark's eyes filled with tears and his lower lip trembled. Roger looked terrified.

"Roger, I need you! You're my heart's beat, my lips' hum! I can't bear to live without telling you how I feel!"

All of the bohemians (and Becky) had by now backed far away from Mark. Roger was doing his best to run, but Mark was on his knees, clinging to Roger's pant leg. Roger tossed his head back, crying out, "Help!" but the bohemians didn't move.

"Roger, please!" Mark begged, "Make love to me!"

Maureen cackled loudly and the other bohemians attempted to hide their own amusement at Mark's statement, but they were failing. FAILING!

"I'll do anything, Roger, anything! I can satisfy your every fantasy, fulfill your every wish, just fuck me now!"

Roger looked like he was going to vomit.

"I can't help what I feel, Roger. Whenever I think of you, I just get so… horny."

"Oh. My. God." Collins finally gave into his laughter. Angel was giggling uncontrollably, doubled over. Becky was banging her head against one of the cabinets. Maureen had fallen over and was now rolling around on the floor, tears of mirth trickling down her cheeks. Joanne had turned around, face-in-hands, in a lame attempt to hide her own amusement. Mimi was giving a half-assed attempt to help Roger, but she kept breaking down into giggles.

"This is just what we need!" Maureen howled, "A gay, sex-crazed, nerdy Jewish filmmaker!"

Mark let go of Roger's pants and backed away. Roger scrambled behind Mimi, attempting to use her as a human shield. Mark surveyed the room, taking in the bohemians' faces. Turning back to Roger, he began to dance. Badly.

As if the whole situation couldn't be more hilarious.

The occupants of the loft were confused, to say the least. Their confusion was multiplied tenfold when Mark began to sing.

"_What do we get for ten dollars?"_

Becky turned and gaped at Mark.

"_Every ting you want._

_Everything?_

_Every ting._

_Sittin' at home with my dick on hard_

_I got the black book for a freak to call"_

"Mark!" Joanne gasped. Mark ignored her and began to shimmy in Roger's direction.

"_Yo, this is Mark, baby, are you down with it?"_

"Mark, I'm not gay!" Roger ran from Mark, who had just made a flying leap in his direction. He ran behind the couch, trying to put as many obstacles between himself and Mark as he could. Mark continued to sing as he moved toward Roger.

"_I'm like a dog in heat_

_A freak without warning_

_My appetite's for sex 'cause me so horny"_

"Oh, Oz, I don't need to be hearing this," Becky moaned.

"_Oh, so horny… oh, so horny… oh, so horny… me love you long time!"_

"Doubt that…" Mimi murmured. Maureen snorted.

"My virgin ears!" Becky cried. Everyone snickered. Still, Mark sang.

"'_Cause you're the one and you shouldn't be mad_

_I won't tell your momma if you don't tell your dad"_

Mark had, by now, bypassed the couch. Roger flailed backwards in an attempt to escape and was sent flying over the coffee table.

"_Won't your momma be so mad if she knew I got that ass?_

_I'm like a freak in heat_

_A dog without warning_

_My appetite's for sex 'cause me so horny_

_You can say I'm desperate"_

Maureen choked on her own laughter. Now that takes talent.

"Nerdy Jewish boys should not be sex-crazed!" Roger shouted. "How the hell do you even know this song?!"

"_I'll be blowin' your mind while you're blowin' my brain"_

"For the last time, Mark, I'm not gay! I'm not going to be blowing anything!"

Angel collapsed onto the couch in a fit of laughter.

"_Oh, so horny… oh, so horny… oh, so horny… me love you long time!"_

"Why, God?!" Roger screamed.

"_It's true you were a virgin until you met me_

_I was the first to make you hot and wetty wetty"_

"Mark, nobody cares! Shut up! Roger isn't turning gay for you, you pervert!"

"Mimi, that's not going to help. He's completely under Sammy's control."

"_You said it yourself:_

_You like it like I do_

_Put your lips on my—"_

"Ok, that's enough!" Becky stomped over to Sammy and ripped the rabid bunny from her shoulder. The bunny screeched in disappointment as Becky shoved it back into the cage.

Mark wobbled before collapsing onto the floor. The bohos surrounded him.

"Mark, Mark, oh my god, are you okay?" Joanne asked.

"The Tango: Maureen!" Becky sang. Joanne glared at her. "…sorry."

Mark rubbed his head. "Ouch. What hap—oh my god!" Mark scurried up and backed as far away from Roger as he could. "Dude, I swear, I didn't mean anything! That—that girl!" he pointed at Sammy, "It was her fault! She _forced_ me to do it!"

Roger tensed. "So, you're not secretly gay?"

"No, I like chicks!"

Roger sighed. "Good. You scared the hell outta me… Though, it really isn't that hard to imagine you gay…" Roger smirked.

"What?! You—you—oh, fuck you, Roger!"

Roger snorted. "If I recall correctly, that's what you were trying to do to me five minutes ago."

Mark shrieked, "I'll show you!" He stomped over to the plotbunny's cage and thrust his hand inside. Grabbing the bunny by the scruff of the neck, he tossed it in Sammy's direction. Sammy, who was still recovering from the plotbunny's previous bite, gave no effort to shield herself from the flying furball. The bunny's teeth clamped onto her arm.

"Mark!" Becky barked, but it was too late. Mark had gotten his revenge.

Roger stood in the middle of the floor, bewildered. A stupid grin appeared on his face. "What're y'all staring at?" he slurred. "Am I too sexy for ya?"

Roger's leg twitched and he looked at it curiously. His other leg twitched. Slowly, his hips began to gyrate.

"Oh, fuck."

As Roger danced to a beat only he could hear (Déjà vu, anyone?), he began to sing.

Here we go again.

"_I'm too sexy for my love_

_Too sexy for my love_

_Love's going to leave me_

_I'm too sexy for my shirt_

_Too sexy for my shirt_

_So sexy it hurts"_

Aaannnnddd Roger took his shirt off and swung it around over his head.

"_I'm too sexy for Milan_

_Too sexy for Milan, New York, and Japan_

_I'm too sexy for your party_

_Too sexy for your party_

_No way I'm disco dancing"_

Roger stepped up onto the coffee table.

"_I'm a model_

_You know what I mean_

_And I do my little turn on the catwalk_

_On the catwalk_

_On the catwalk, yeah_

_I do my little turn on the catwalk_

_I'm too sexy for my car"_

"Psh. No shit. That thing is all old and beat-up."

"_Too sexy for my car_

_Too sexy by far_

_And I'm too sexy for my hat_

_Too sexy for my hat_

_What do you think about that?"_

"Um… I think Roger's a bit conceited." Becky turned to Mimi. "Mimi, as Roger's girlfriend, it's your duty to take away his mirror privileges. _He needs rehab_."

Mimi nodded.

"_I'm a model_

_You know what I mean_

_And I do my little turn on the catwalk_

_On the catwalk_

_On the catwalk, yeah_

_I shake my little tush on the catwalk"_

Roger turned, shaking his butt. If Sammy wouldn't have been infected with the plotbunny's venom, she would have fan-gasmed and died of happiness.

"Fuck all of this!"

Becky once again ripped the bunny from Sammy's body. Sammy went limp.

Roger stopped dancing and shook his head. After a moment of dazed confusion, Roger's face took on an expression of pure rage. "Mark, you asshole! I'm gonna—!"

Mark shrieked and ran. Roger chased after him, but stopped. He quickly turned and grabbed the bunny out of Becky's hands before once again throwing it at Sammy. It's teeth sank into her thigh.

"No, Roger! This isn't healthy! If an author is bitten by a rabid plotbunny too many times in such a short period of time, it could—"

Once again, she had spoken too late.

This time, however, instead of typing out another horrible storyline, Sammy cackled madly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her pale face twisted into a mix of twisted pleasure and… well, something else entirely.

"Oh no, she's officially lost it!"

Sammy struggled to stand, and when she did, the bunny freed her thigh and scurried off to a corner of the room in fear. Sammy cackled again and her voice cracked.

"Don't worry, Sammy, help is on the way!"

As Becky announced this, she scribbled something in her handy-dandy notebook. Two men in white coats appeared.

"Please, help her! She's been bitten too many times by a rabid plotbunny!"

The men nodded, and one pulled a syringe filled with clear fluid out of his pocket. Slowly, they approached Sammy. Sammy backed away into her corner and gnashed her teeth.

Sammy's eyes darted back and forth between the two men before she finally leapt towards one of them, attacking him with teeth and nails. The other man took this opportunity to jab her with the needle. She screeched and scampered away into her corner, but the drug that had been injected into her system began to take effect.

Sammy's movements became sluggish, and when one of the men pulled a straitjacket from out of nowhere, she collapsed onto the floor. Dutifully, the two men got her into the straitjacket and dragged her to the door of the loft.

"She'll be fine," one of them called back. "We'll have 'er back to normal soon enough," and they disappeared out the door.

Silence ensued.

"Oh, fuck this," Roger announced, and made his way over to Mark. He stuck his hand out. Mark flinched.

"Dude, you're my best friend. I know this isn't our best moment, but let's put it behind us, alright? Truce?"

Hesitantly, Mark shook Roger's hand. "Truce."

"Good."

As the tension in the room finally drifted away, one statement was heard:

"Hey, anyone know where that bunny got to?"

**End of Part I**


	5. Pimp My Beta

**A/N:** Right, so this is going to be one of those obnoxiously long author's notes, so you can skip ahead to the chapter if you'd like.

Anyway, yes, it's true, I've finally updated. I know it took way too long, but in my defense, I was a target for Writer's Block, holiday preparations, computer viruses, and family troubles. It was too much for me to handle in a short amount of time, so I had to push aside this story so I could deal with my life.

Now that I've finally typed and posted this for you guys, I've got some more news: I have no fucking clue where to go from here. I struggled so much writing this chapter because I wasn't sure what to do or how to develop my ideas. Honestly, I really don't think this chapter is very funny, but I have no clue how to improve it. I don't even know what to do or where to go from here, so I'd really appreciate your input, because I'm stuck right now. So, guys and gals, please review and let me know what you think. Even if you think this chapter sucked balls, at least leave me a review and let me know how I can improve. Please?

Oh, and thanks to Sammy for being such a good sport. God knows what else I've got in store for her, and she's still as enthusiastic about this story as she was from the beginning.

**Disclaimer:** I'm so tired of putting these in my stories, but they're the only way I know of to keep me from deluding myself into thinking I own anything.

* * *

"Morning, guys. Sammy, what's on the agenda for today?

Sammy said nothing.

"Sam?"

Sammy glared.

"Uhm… ok then… I guess I'll just have to come up with something by myself…" Becky shuffled over to the table and poured some coffee. Mark leaned toward her.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Oh… she's still mad about the bunny incident…"

Sammy jumped up. "Mad?! MAD?! I'm furious! I can't believe you sedated me! And what's worse, your reviewers fucking liked it! They liked it! What the fuck is wrong—"

"Sammy, you know it's not safe to bad-mouth the reviewers."

"Why the fuck would you write that?! I never did anything to you OR them, except serve as some kind of sick entertainment for some fucking—"

"Sammy, I really suggest you stop bad-mouthing the reviewers… and my story…"

"And why don't they want anything to happen to you?! Why can't you be the one who gets fucked over?!"

"Sammy, the reviewers are unhappy."

"I don't care!"

Sammy stood, cursing and shaking her fist at the ceiling. Becky stepped back. "Uhh… guys, you might want to back away."

Mark, Roger, and Mimi scrambled back.

The room grew hot. The sound of angry chattering filled the room, and words appeared and swirled around Sammy. Her hair whipped around in an unknown wind and the words around her began to spark and crackle. All of a sudden, the words exploded. Sammy's clothes caught on fire and she screamed. Fire swirled around her, burning everything, until, suddenly, she disappeared.

"What was that?" Mimi asked with wide eyes as Roger bent to examine the scorched floor.

"That, my dear Mimi, was the Flames. A Flame is what we call a bad review. They're extremely powerful weapons in the fanfiction world."

"So, what caused… this… to happen?"

"Sammy bad-mouthed the reviewers—a big no-no to us writers. You know that phrase, 'The customer is always right'?"

The three nodded.

"Well, this is pretty much the same concept."

"So… is she… dead?"

"Oh, no, sillies! I love Sammy too much to kill her off!"

(This author would now like to take the time to say: Sammy, please don't hurt me!)

"So… where is she then?"

Becky waved her hand. "Well, the Flames were coming in fast and I knew I had to get her out of there soon, so, with some quick-thinking, I transported her to West Coast Customs."

Roger blinked.

"We're going to cover Crossovers!"

"Huh?"

Becky sighed. "She's in West Coast Customs! She's getting pimped out!"

No, not in _that_ way. Get your minds out of the gutter, people!

"I need the other bohos here right away."

With a 'popping' sound, Joanne appeared, holding a sandwich in her hands. She jumped, startled, and dropped the sandwich. "Damn…" she muttered, "that was my lunch…"

Maureen appeared next, standing sleepily in her pj's. She seemed unsurprised as she made her way to the table to pour a cup of coffee.

Angel appeared in a bright flash of light and sat calmly in the easy-chair. Collins appeared, pants around his ankles, bending down to sit. He screamed, fell over, and struggled to pull his pants back over his knees.

Becky chuckled. "If you need to go to the bathroom, go now."

"That's what I was just trying to do!" Collins screeched before shuffling away to the bathroom.

The bohos waited patiently for Collins to finish his business. A minute passed. Elevator music began to play and Becky glanced at the clock. Another minute. Roger tapped his foot. Two more minutes and Maureen sipped loudly on her coffee. Becky began to sway to the music, humming along softly.

The bathroom door opened and the music stopped.

"Aww…" Becky murmured dejectedly.

Collins made his way over to Angel's easy-chair. The bohemians turned their attention to the girl moping in the center of the room. "Um, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Crossovers."

Hip hop music boomed loudly as a flash of light erupted in the middle of the room. Xzibit and his crew appeared with a confused Sammy.

"Ayo, I'm X, and me and my crew at West Coast Customs have pimped your beta."

Becky squealed in delight and clapped her hands together.

"Aiight, to start this shit off, you remember that tangled mess of hair on the top of this girl's head?"

Becky nodded.

"Well, normally girls like a lot of volume, but we took it down a notch. There's still a little curl, but now it ain't over the top."

Mimi leaned towards Angel. "He sounds kinda gay, don't you think?" Angel snorted.

"Next, we knew you guys needed a place to keep your shit, so," he turned Sammy around, "we installed a storage area that brings a whole new meaning to 'junk in da trunk.'"

A tiny door opened to reveal a storage area in Sammy's… err… "rear." Becky started laughing.

"What?" Collins asked.

"Get it? We keep our _shit_ in Sammy's _rear_?!"

Blank stares.

"Oh, nevermind. You're hopeless."

"Right, so," X brought everyone's attention back to Sammy, "ya gotta have munchies, so we installed a mini fridge right in Sammy's stomach." Sammy turned around and her stomach opened up to reveal a mini fridge.

"Awesome!" Collins shouted. "Now I've got a place to keep my vodka!"

Everyone stared at Collins. He blinked. "What?"

Becky shook her head.

"Ever wanted people to get out of your fucking way when you're in a crowded place? Not a problem anymore." X pressed a button, and a set of speakers popped up from Sammy's head. X pulled a microphone from Sammy's pocket. "This shit's also good for karaoke."

Maureen grinned and jumped up and down. Joanne smacked her palm against her forehead.

"And the finishing touch; we added some bling fo' yo' girl."

Sammy smiled, revealing a grill.

"Thanks, X!" Becky cried. Xzibit popped her collar, handed over the keys, and disappeared with his crew.

"That was… strange…"

"Meh. It's a crossover. What do you expect?" Becky bounded over to Sammy. "Are you still mad at me?"

Sammy's eye twitched. "I feel… like a science project gone wrong."

"Oh." Becky's face fell. She jotted something down in her notebook and all of the "improvements" the guys at West Coast Customs had made disappeared. "Shame. I really liked the grill."

Sammy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well… I guess I still owe you…"

Sammy glared.

"Don't worry. I promise you'll like it this time."

Three figures appeared in an explosion of bubbles because this author is tired of using flashes of light.

"Oh. My. God." Sammy breathed. She turned to Becky. "I forgive you." Becky grinned proudly.

Before them stood the three doctors of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital: Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy, and James Wilson.

**TBC**

* * *

Review? Feedback is appreciated. Wait... scratch that, feedback is _needed._ Thanks a bunch.

-Twisted


	6. Teenagers Are Strange Kidnappers

**A/N:** Happy New Year! Even though that was a while ago... sorry. Yeah... so I'm actually at a loss for something to say. I feel like I should type something anyway... so... yeah. Feel free to just ignore this paragraph and skip ahead.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own RENT _or_ House, M.D. Sucks, I know.

* * *

The three doctors blinked and took in their surroundings.

"What… the… fuck?"

The room erupted into a flurry of questions. Metaphorically, not literally, because that would be kinda hard to clean up.

"Where are we?"

"Who are you?"

"How did we get here?"

"Why are we here?"

"What do you want from us?"

"Hey, can I have some coffee?"

"House!" Cuddy reprimanded. He grinned shamelessly.

"Okay, to answer your questions; you're in New York. I'm Becky and that's Sammy, and we're the brains of this operation. You're here because I wrote you in and I need you guys for a while. And yes, feel free to have all the coffee you want."

House limped over to the coffee pot. Wilson kneaded his fingers into his forehead. "Pour me a cup too," he called, resigned. House grunted.

Cuddy gaped in shock. "So basically, you've kidnapped us?"

Becky blinked. "Pretty much, yeah."

Wilson surveyed the girl. "You don't _seem_ like a kidnapper."

Becky shrugged. "Meh."

House shuffled back over with one cup of coffee in his hand.

"House, what about mine?!"

"I can't walk with _two_ coffees," House stated, gesturing to his cane. Wilson groaned and moved to the coffee pot to pour his own coffee.

"So," House said, turning to the girls, "what is it you need us for, anyway? Are you going to tie us down and have your wicked way with us?" Sammy blushed and cleared her throat. House seemed to take this as an affirmation. "Well, alright then. Have at me."

Maureen, who had been mid-sip of her second cup of coffee, coughed loudly, choking on the warm liquid. Becky laughed.

"I think you got the wrong impression."

Cuddy interrupted. "Look, whatever you want, we'll give it to you. Just let us go. Kidnapping is a felony, you know, but if you just let us go, we won't tell anyone. We—"

"Look, Lisa, you're an amazing character and I love you, but if you don't shut up, I will beat you with House's cane." She paused, and seemed to think it over. "But I'll do it in a very loving way."

Roger snickered in the background.

Wilson sighed. "Look, just tell us what you need us for so we can get this over with."

Becky grinned. "Good man! I can see why Sammy likes you so much." With that, Sammy turned very red and discovered that her hands were the most interesting things in the world.

"Right, so, anyway, we need you to help cure somebody."

Cuddy seemed to perk up. "Wait, so… that's it? You're not going to hold us for ransom or… or sell our organs?"

"Dude, we're _teenagers_."

"Well, who is it then?" House seemed impatient. "Bring on the sick people!"

Sammy turned to Becky. "He already used that line in the show." Becky ignored her.

"We can't tell you who it is. All we can say is that the person is in this room."

The bohos shuffled uncomfortably. House eyed them. "Well, will you at least tell us what the illness is?"

"Nope. That's why you're here. You're good at solving puzzles and diagnosing people. You have to figure that out for yourself."

House plopped down onto a chair. "What about my team?"

"They'll just get in the way. Use Cuddy and Wilson instead."

Wilson sighed and sat next to Maureen. She turned to him and smiled.

"I don't want what you're selling," Wilson said, and it took all of Mimi's self-control not to laugh out loud. When a giggle escaped, Angel swatted Mimi's arm. Maureen looked slightly taken aback.

Cuddy rubbed her head and leaned against the chair House was sitting in. "When are we going to find out who's sick?"

"Any second now."

_Pause._ Maureen poured another cup of coffee while Wilson sipped his. House tapped his cane on the floor. Cuddy blinked.

"Uhh, guys? I don't feel too good…"

Everyone turned to look at the person who had spoken. It was Joanne.

As House stood from the chair to examine her, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed onto the floor with a _thud_.

"Pookie!" Maureen cried. She rushed to where her girlfriend was lying. Cuddy pushed her out of the way, kneeling beside Joanne to check her pulse. Wilson was right behind her.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Cuddy said, glancing up from Joanne's unconscious form.

"Sorry, can't do that."

"What? Why?!" Maureen seemed angry.

"It's the _rules_."

Maureen's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

Becky sighed. "Don't worry. If she gets too sick, we'll take her to a hospital."

House stepped beside Becky. "If we can't take her to a hospital, how are we supposed to cure her? Hell, how are we even supposed to find out what she's got?"

"I can get you most of the stuff you need, but the rest," she paused, "you'll have to figure out for yourself.

**TBC**

* * *

Y'know, I'm not sure how I'm going to cure Joanne. She _is_ very sick, after all. Maybe getting a lot of reviews will help make her better...

Yeah, that was lame, I know. Review anyway. You know you love me.

-Twisted


	7. Authors on Caffeine

**A/N:** Gahh, yes, I know it's been forever. I blame procrastination. (Procrastination: It's like masturbation. It starts off good, but then you realize you've just fucked yourself.) I've also been kinda busy too, so...

Erm... I don't own it, yadda yadda yadda and all that jazz.

* * *

As we begin this chapter, we come upon a ghastly scene. The loft is dark and silent. A thin layer of dust coats the room. The room's occupants are motionless, save for the two strange girls. Becky and Sammy are seated on the floor, hunched over a blank notebook…

"What do I do?" Becky asked, glancing to Sammy.

"Well, you left the last chapter at a cliffhanger. Why not bring back the plot slowly and we'll work from there?"

"Well… ok…"

Slowly, the rest of the gang began to move. "What the—cough cough—fuck happened?!" Roger asked as he unhinged his aching jaw.

"Eww! There was a spider in my mouth!" Maureen squealed, and rushed over to the sink to vomit.

"Um, sorry guys. That was my bad. I had a lot of stuff to do, and then I kinda had a little Writer's Block… and procrastination didn't help much, either. Don't worry, though. Sammy's helping me through it." Becky hopped off the floor. "Let's get started where we left off, yeah?" She shuffled over to Joanne's unconscious form on the table and picked a cobweb out of her hair.

"Um… where _were_ we, anyway?" Mark spoke up as he brushed dust off of his scarf.

"Uhh… I'm not really sure…"

Everyone looked around, unsure of what to do.

"Sammy, a little help here?"

Sammy sighed and tugged at a strand of hair absently. "Well, normally House and his ducklings would go through a bunch of symptoms and try to figure out the cause. However, since you don't have any actual medical knowledge, and the ducklings aren't actually _here_, I suggest you skip that whole deal and move on to an actual diagnosis, whether it's correct or not."

Becky blinked. "Right! So, guys, we've got fever, swelling, rapid heartbeat, and a rash. Anything else?"

Sammy smacked herself in the head. "Way to go against everything I just told you."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Ow… my head is killing me…"

Everyone turned to Joanne, who had just woken up. Maureen rushed to her side. "Pookie!"

House limped close behind. "Do you know where you are?"

"Of course. I'm in the loft."

"Do you remember your name?" House pulled out a penlight and shone it in her eyes.

"Hey, Sammy, is it '_shone,' _or is it _'shined?'_"

"Fuck if I know."

Becky wrote, _House pulled out a penlight and shined it into her eyes._ "Gah, they both sound wrong!"

"Ahem!" House glared over at Becky.

"Sorry…"

Joanne glanced over at Becky and Sammy. Sammy gave a half-assed wave and Becky grinned stupidly.

"So, you've got a headache. Anything else?" House brought the attention back to Joanne.

"Well… I'm a little hungry. I wasn't actually able to finish my lunch."

"Great! I'm starving!"

"House!" Cuddy glared.

"What?"

Mark put on his coat. "I'll get us some lunch. Chinese, anyone?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. Mark grabbed his bike and carried it out the door. Sammy leaned close to Becky and whispered, "How is he supposed to _pay_ for food?"

Becky snorted. "This is fanfiction. Does it matter?"

"Eh. You've got a point."

_Pause._ Everyone looked around because the author was unsure of what to make them do while they waited for Mark to return.

Five minutes pass.

"Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Meyer wiener…"

Sammy glared at Becky.

"Sorry…"

Another minute.

"They say a man should always dress for the job he wants, so why am I dressed up like a pirate in this restaurant?"

"…what is your dysfunction?"

Becky grinned. "The Free Credit Report commercials!"

Sammy looked confused.

"Never mind… _damn Canadians,_" Becky whispered.

"What was that?"

"I love you."

(Author's Note: I think Canadians are pretty awesome. Sammy, don't hurt me.)

(Beta/Sammy's Note: We actually get those commercials in Canada… on the US channels. We aren't sheltered, don't worry.)

(Author's Note: LIES!)

Four more minutes pass before Sammy gets tired of Becky's jingles and hits her over the head with a fish.

Yeah, I'm not really sure where she got the fish from…

BAM! The loft door flew open.

"Did they follow me?! Am I safe?!"

"…um …Mark?"

"I didn't have money to pay for the food so I had to skip out. Those Chinese people run fast!"

Sammy turned to Becky. "You know, I'm pretty sure you just insulted two ethnicities in ten minutes."

Becky grinned. "I know! I'm so excited!" Her eye twitched and the notebook in her hand shook a little.

"Are… you ok?"

"I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! It's the caffeine! You _KNOW_ what caffeine does to me!" Becky sobbed.

Roger took this time to quietly dump out the rest of Becky's coffee. Her eye twitched again.

"…oooookkkkkk. Let's try to concentrate, alright? Let's just all eat our lunch so we can move on with the plot. We've already lingered on this far too long."

The author doesn't feel like performing the tedious task of describing the bohos eat, but let's just say Kung Pow Chicken somehow ended up on the ceiling and Collins will have rice in his ears for the next three months.

Mmm. Chicken. I want some chicken.

"How's that headache of yours?" Wilson asked Joanne, because this author felt bad for ignoring him. Well, that and Sammy would probably assault said author with a plastic spork if she didn't include Wilson.

"It's a little better. My stomach's a little queasy, though."

Cuddy got up from her seat to check Joanne's temperature. "You've still got a fever."

With that, Joanne threw up all over the floor and passed out.

"…way to go, Cuddy. Way to go."

"Ew."

Becky stepped forward. "I'm guessing that wasn't because of the Mushu Pork?"

**TBC**

* * *

Don'thurtmeI'msorryIleftitatacliffieahhhh!!!! I know, it was short, but I still have no idea where I want to go from here. I'm just wingin' it.

-Twisted


	8. Insert Your Mom and End of Part 2

**A/N:** Yeah... I know it's been forever. You can all thank Rapp Fan for me posting this; if it wasn't for her, I probably would have completely forgotten about this story *is ashamed*

To make it up to you, I made this chapter a little longer than the rest.

**Disclaimer: **Me no own, you no sue.

* * *

"So," House murmured after a moment of awkward silence, "I suppose we can add vomiting to the list of symptoms."

"Check!" Becky chirped. Sammy blinked.

"She seems to have gotten worse than before," Cuddy added.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." House rolled his eyes.

"So, she got bad, got better, and then got worse. Any reason why?" Wilson asked in a lame attempt to keep the House/Cuddy banter to a minimum. The quicker they could cure Joanne, the quicker they could get back.

"Ooh, ooh, I know!" Becky waved her hand in the air. "Pick me, pick me! I know the answer!"

"Yes?"

"It's Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis!"

"…inflammation of the lungs?" Wilson looked incredulous.

"…Rapp Fan wanted it in the story. It sounds cool enough, right?"

"I'm amazed that you could even pronounce that."

"Oh, I can't. Copy and paste, my friend."

"…what?"

"Your mom."

"Back on the subject, please!" Cuddy groaned and rubbed her temple. "Let's just… let's just figure out what's wrong with her, alright?"

"She got sick _after_ she ate lunch. You," House pointed to Maureen, "You're the girlfriend, right? Does she have any food allergies of any kind?"

"Uhm… I—I don't… I mean, I don't think she does. I can't be sure."

"Great. Start treatment for food allergy. We'll give her antihistamines and Vitamin C until we get some sign that she's getting better."

"And what do we do in the meantime?"

"We wait. You got a TV around here?"

"House, Maureen said Joanne didn't have any food allergies. I think we should rule out other causes first."

"No, she said she didn't _think_ Joanne had any food allergies. Just give her the antihistamines. It's not like they can do any damage."

"Hey, look, The Simpsons is on!"

**4 episodes later…**

"House, this isn't working."

"Give it time. It'll work."

"No, House! She doesn't have a food allergy, ok? We need to figure out what the problem really is."

"What if it really was lupus, for once?" Becky asked absently. House, Cuddy, and Wilson stared. "What? I mean, it would fit, right?"

"Yes!" Sammy joined in. "The swelling, the fever, the rash, it's gotta be lupus! It totally fits!"

Wilson blinked in disbelief. "House… they might actually be right."

House paused, pondering. "Do you have any anti-inflammatory medications? Aspirin or… ibuprofen?"

Mimi nodded and bounded off to the bathroom. She returned with a bottle of ibuprofen.

"If it really is _that_ easy, I swear I'll do my clinic hours for the next two days."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "You know I'll hold you to that, right?"

"Just shut up, both of you!" Sammy yelled. Becky backed away in shock and nearly fell over the coffee table.

"I thought you liked the House/Cuddy banter? Oh no… It's a sign of the apocalypse! Everybody run!"

"Actually, I think she just wants them to stop talking so Wilson can have more time to talk," Angel commented.

Becky stared at Angel in awe. "Are you God?"

"Ok, so I took the pills. What now?" Joanne asked, tired of the author's short attention span.

"More waiting."

"Why are we always waiting? I'm sick of waiting!" Mark—who was still quite paranoid due to almost being slaughtered by an angry mob of Chinese—complained.

"Don't worry, Mark. I can help with that." Becky snapped her fingers.

**Half an hour later…**

"Wow, it's been half an hour already?"

"Yes. Now shut up and focus on Joanne." The room fell silent. Sammy sighed and rolled her eyes.

"This is taking too long," she muttered.

"I'd speed this up, but I need more caffeine." The bohos looked at Becky warily. "What? The writing is going slow because I'm not wired. Duh."

Collins leaned over and whispered to Sammy, "Do you think it's safe? I mean, you know how she gets when she's hopped up on coffee."

Sammy sighed again. "I don't think we have a choice. Roger, go make a fresh pot of coffee."

"Yay! I love you!" Becky squealed, glomping Sammy into next week.

"Help..." Sammy groaned.

It took quite some effort (and by effort, I mean the bohos pulling on Becky's legs while House whapped her on the head with his cane), but Sammy was eventually freed from Becky's grasp. Just as Becky was about to attack Sammy with more Beta-Love of Doom, a fresh cup of coffee was placed in her hands. It took a few seconds for Becky to realize she had just been granted the gift of life, but once she did, she chugged that coffee like there was no tomorrow.

The transformation was almost instantaneous. "Whew, alright! So, Joanne, how are you feeling?"

"Much better, actually."

"What?! You can't be serious. It can't be that easy!" House was obviously rather miffed about his upcoming clinic hours.

"Apparently, it is." Wilson sounded rather smug. Cuddy was too busy celebrating her total pwnage to bother commenting.

"So, that's it? She has lupus?"

"I'm not so sure…"

"Ugh, just give it up, House! Can't you just accept that you're wrong for once?"

"I can, if I'm actually wrong. Think about it: Joanne got sick _after_ she took a bite of her sandwich. She got better, and then she got sick again _after_ she ate the Chinese food. Does that really sound like lupus to you?"

"But she didn't react to the antihistamines."

"Correct. She reacted to the ibuprofen. Ibuprofen can also be used to treat food allergies."

"How can we prove it?" Wilson asked.

"Simple," House replied. "We give her more Mushu and see if she gets sick again. If she does, then it's a food allergy."

"Uhm… there was no pork in my sandwich," Joanne spoke up.

House's face fell.

"Oh my Oz, I know the answer! I actually know what it is!" Becky began hopping up and down like… well, like an author with too much caffeine in her system.

Maureen marched up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Well, say it, woman! My girlfriend's life is on the line, here!"

"MSG!"

"…say what?"

"She has an allergy to MSG! There's a lot of MSG in Chinese food!"

"What about in my sandwich? I got that at the little grocery store around the corner, not from a Chinese restaurant."

"Actually, she's got something going, here. Even those prepackaged sandwiches you buy at the store have at least a little MSG in them."

"So there we go! Problem solved!" House was grinning like a maniac. "Just avoid foods with MSG and you'll be all set!" He turned to Becky. "Can we go now?"

"It can't end like this!" Sammy shrieked. "I won't allow it!"

"…what's her problem?" Mimi asked.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, but I did promise they could leave once she was better."

Sammy began to cry. Becky sighed and whispered something in Wilson's ear. He paled, shaking his head furiously, but when Becky sent a threatening glare towards her pen and notebook, he gave in. Groaning, he walked over to Sammy, took a deep breath, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Sammy stopped blubbering immediately.

"Are we good now?" Becky asked.

"Yep."

"Awesome." And with that, the three doctors disappeared.

"So is that the end of the chapter?"

"Not yet. There's something that needs to be done first." Becky began to write in her notebook. A _knock_ came from the door. "Oh, Mark?"

Mark popped his head up from behind the couch.

"The Chinese have come for you."

Mark yelped and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Haha, good one!" Collins laughed, "But who's at the door?"

"I wasn't joking, Collins. The Chinese are actually here for Mark."

"Shit," Roger muttered. "Collins, prepare to break out the vodka. We're gonna need a lot of it."


End file.
